


Native Species

by madamebadger



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alliances, Gen, Geth, Homecoming, Hope, Mildly Fluffy, Missing Scene, Nature, Quarians, Rannoch, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 17:35:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2033940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamebadger/pseuds/madamebadger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In her first day on the planet from which her people came, Tali considers the native species that Rannoch gave birth to... <i>all</i> of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Native Species

After a little while, Shepard gets up with a grunt of effort and dusts the red-gold sand of Rannoch off her hands. “I’ll leave you to the view,” she says.

“I won’t be long,” Tali says, though she can’t hide the hint of regret in her voice. It’s like a dream, sitting here with her mask off on the cliffs of her own world, the breeze on her face bringing her the damp earthy scent of the river below, the sweet smell of the flowers the grow clinging to the rock, and a thousand other things that she can’t recognize or name. The wind catches the fabric of her cowl and blows it against her cheek, a coarse-soft touch that’s unfamiliar even though she’s worn a cowl every day since she was a child. It’s so much like a dream that she is expecting, any moment, to wake.

Shepard’s hand settles softly on Tali’s shoulder. “Take your time,” she says. “We can spare an hour.”

So Tali stays.

Above her, winged creatures circle the river. She can’t tell from here what species they are, or even what general type of animal: bird, reptile, saurid, mammal, or something else. Zoology got short shrift on the Flotilla: all quarian children learn the major domestic animals (some of them will grow up to maintain the cryonic tanks that hold frozen embryos of quarian domestic animals in hopeful anticipation of the day they will have a home again), and a few famous wild animals (the furry aerh, the bright-feathered zhenall, the legendarily-fierce gerr), but that’s all. 

The animals wheel lazily, rarely flapping their wings. Backlit as they are by the setting sun, she can’t make them out easily, can only tell the most basic things about their shape and nothing about their color. They’re just elegant winged spots of darkness against the sky.

That is, until one of them dives so close that she gives an undignified yelp and ducks. But it has no interest in her; it’s diving for the river, and as it does she can see a long, slim shape, and wide wings streaked with dramatic black and white. The creature, whatever it is, strikes the water and comes up holding something that flashes in the sunlight. A fish, a snake, something else?

How little she knows. In another mood or on another day that might upset her, but now she can’t feel anything but a comfortable elation. If she survives the war, she’ll come back and build a house here and learn the names of everything that flies in the air or swims in the river or goes about on the rocky cliffs. She’ll create a journal on the extranet and bore her friends with blurry pictures of flowers growing in the rocks.

And if she doesn’t survive—and she knows that there is a very good chance that she won’t—she will have had this. Generations of quarians lived and died without ever having the chance to see a whatever-it-was fishing.

A soft noise behind her makes her jump, and for a guilty moment she thinks it’s Shepard, coming back to see why she’s still dallying. But when she looks around, she sees that it’s a geth prime, standing a few meters back from her. She feels a brief stab of resentment: can’t she at least have this moment undisturbed?

But she thinks of Legion. And she thinks, too, that geth can move perfectly quietly if they choose to. It made a noise to let her know that it was approaching. So she forces herself to relax.

“Creator Tali’Zorah,” the prime says. “From your perspective you only knew one of us, the one Shepard-Commander named Legion. I understand that you would consider me a stranger. But as we synchronize and share our memories, we all feel that we knew you. We all share memories of having served on the Normandy with you.” She wonders if she’s just imagining the hesitation before the ‘I’ and ‘me’ in that sentence. Is it hard for geth to become used to being individuals rather than a single collective intelligence? Or do machines not have to adjust—do they take up a code adjustment as swiftly and automatically as her body takes in food or water? “If you need anything that I can assist with, please ask.”

She suspects she won’t ever be able to really understand that. Maybe that’s the instinctive limitation of an organic: she saw Legion die, and she can’t really understand how he could be dead but not really because his memories were backed up to the cloud. She says, “Thank you… ah…” She fumbles. “…do you have a name that I should call you by?”

There is a pause. “No,” the geth says, and then, “Not yet.” Then the geth is silent and motionless, and for a moment she wonders if it expects something from her. It’s so large, more than twice her height even if she was standing, and it’s standing while she’s sitting and it’s a _geth_ , and it’s basically impossible given her history to not feel intimidated. 

But after a moment she realizes that it’s watching the sunset.

So she turns to watch as well, as the sky turns layers of color to match the stones.

After a little while she says, “The things flying overhead. Do you know what they’re called?”

The prime arches its long neck to look up—a gesture that she suspects to be for her benefit, because she knows that the big geth contain camera inputs all over their chassis, not just in the front. “Yes,” it says. It rattles off a scientific name—a mouthful in Old Khelish—and then says, “The colloquial name in Modern Khelish at the time of the Morning War was _raalex_. The species and related species congregate near rivers, where they feed on fish and snakes. They are identifiable by their lean, densely scaled dark gray bodies and black-and-white feathered wings. They nest on the cliffs and bear two to three eggs per season. They are not domesticated but can be tamed. They were frequently depicted in quarian art, perhaps because of the spectacular beauty of their plumage.” It flares the flaps around its brilliant eyespot, as if just warming up to the topic, and Tali realizes with a jolt that it is trying to _make small talk_ in its own weird way; it is trying to connect with her. It is, as Kaidan would say, holding out an olive branch. “Five hundred years ago a renowned quarian fashion designer created a line of clothing based on the designs and coloration of the plumage of the raalex, although not using actual raalex plumage as the species was protected at the time. Shall I continue, Creator Tali’Zorah?”

“No,” she says, and now she has the crazy urge to laugh, which she represses, “that’s fine. Thank you.” _Raalex_ , she thinks, watching the creatures circle. There are fewer, now, as the sun sets. They must be finding their nests on the cliffs. “What can you tell me about the animals that live in the river?”

The prime shifts, and for a moment long instinct makes her want to reach for her shotgun. But she doesn’t, with great effort of will. And to her astonishment the geth sits on the edge of the cliff next to her, feet hanging off the edge. It’s not really much less enormous and intimidating sitting; it still towers at least three feet over her. But it can sit as easily and naturally as she can, because its legs are designed like hers, and although just one of its feet is nearly as big as her whole leg, still its feet dangling next to hers are quite the same shape as hers, just writ large. _Made in our image_ , she thinks, _like our children_ , and the well of feelings that summons is too complex to deal with in the moment, so she pushes it aside. Later.

“There are many species of fish and snakes and amphibians and small aquatic mammals in this river and environs,” the prime says. “The most notable for quarians is the edible fish called _shaelvha_ , which was popular in quarian cuisine in all forms: cooked, cured, or raw. Scientific name….”

 _Raalex_ , _shaelvha,_ Tali thinks, as the geth’s voice names species after species, as a whole world unfurls before her, as the stars come out overhead. _Quarian. Geth._


End file.
